Descent
by Welcometopandora
Summary: There's a reason the precursors were so eager to leave. The world may have been saved but irreversible damage has been done to the Eco balance. Dark Eco is increasing and metal heads have returned, seemingly more powerful. The city is still in ruins, its people dwindling and hateful, and the dark Eco surge has serious adverse effects on Jak. Collection of oneshots


Daxter darted from the shadows and up some vertical rubble, his miniature makeshift backpack jumping with the movements. He hopped across two windowsills and scuttled up a drain pipe - to the relative safety of the rooftops - before hunkering down and daring to glance back, see if he'd been noticed. He hadn't. There was only around five people on the street, and those not scavenging the rubble had been walking the opposite way.

Daxter waited and watched for a few seconds longer before taking off across the roof in a four legged jog. He passed over the next five buildings and ducked into the sixth, creeping along the debris that rested through the next two structures and down onto the street.

Here the buildings were more dilapidated. It was known no one dared venture this far so Daxter continued his journey in a causal, upright stroll. A lane and half later he reached a tatty looking door, the only one in the row attached to its hinges. And that fact, he had argued, made the ruse door all the more suspicious. Regardless, it's metal, strong and would keep out the uninvited.

Daxter took a moment to himself, leaning his forehead forward and enjoying the chill of the surface. He didn't startle when a metal head brayed somewhere in the distance. One of the larger beasts for its cry to carry into the city, he mused.

Things were so fucked, more that usual- a feat in itself.

With a heavy sigh Daxter fished the key from his bag, pushed the door open -with effort- and stepped inside.

The room itself was small, musty and without windows- the kind of squalor that was somehow worse than when he and Jak had been renegades, jumping between the undergrounds bunkers and hidey holes littered around the city. The current digs was a literal hole, plain and simple, built up by the collapsed rubble of the neighbouring structures with the addition of support beams. They liked to forget the weak promise made that it was actualły safe enough to live under.

Three rounds of saving the world and this is what they'd been reduced too. Amazing.

Just about how 'amazing' shit hit the fan.

Daxter had known even before it all began. Not to brag. He had sensed it with Jak, who had become progressively more reserved and irate. Then tales arrived from the wasteland. Accounts of tinged darkness seeping up through the ground, dying the sand in purple patches. To her merit, Ashelin took measures to keep the happenings quiet from the general populace, and the few who did know surmised it just fallout from the recent fell of the dark maker ship.

No one had dared vocalise the harbinger of something bigger.

New watch patrols were put in place in the older and weaker areas- they didn't help. Creatures had invaded the walls before anyone could realise the patrols sudden absence. It was only by some divine luck that the port was virtually empty when the metal head grunts tore up through the sewers, in small enough numbers to be dispatched by the blue guards.

Seven civilians and six guards were slaughtered, four being the lost patrol.

Then sightings came from the wastelands, talks of terrifying new beasts, larger and stronger than any seen before. Panic spread through the people of haven like wildfire and, yet again, Jak was in the firing line; Regardless of the officials support.

In response to the unrest a new demented rebel faction arose within the people. Baring the red symbols of the old krimzon guards, they named themselves 'the regiment' in respect to Havens late baron. They marched the streets in the chaos and confusion of those first weeks, spouting hysteria driven rulings.

They preach of bringing about a new world, a New Haven. They cry of retribution, with promises of protection and the extermination of monsters- including those within the city walls and all who'd associate.

Not surprising that the freedom league had to shove their 'hero's' aside and into hiding to have any semblance of a chance of gaining support of the masses. Sure, Daxter understood the move here was for his and Jaks safety, that it would be better for them in the long run, but -call him selfish - he still resented the turn of events. It wasn't as if this was the first time they'd been swept under the rug.

The ottsel didn't bother flicking on the single bare bulb before he closed and secured the door, his eyes would adjust soon enough anyhow. He set the backpack aside, the supplies inside could be sorted and stored later.

Daxter stretched, rolling the ache from his shoulders and yawned as he crept his way across the bunker and toward one of the four decrepid wooden frames he knew lined the far wall, things that someone passed as a bed. Beggars can't be choosers he supposed, climbing up the second. Least it had mattress, and it's current occupant didn't seem to care too much.

Jak was on his side facing daxter, back to the wall. His arms and legs drawn in to his body, head bowed. Even in the dark he looked the sheer opposite of peaceful and it broke the ottsels heart.

Least let the poor guy catch a break in his sleep

Daxter moved slowly, fighting the urge to leap in like a stray cat. This was the first time in a long while he'd seen his friend sleep and he wasn't going to be the one to wake him.

He crept up to Jaks crossed arms, happy to settle on the outskirts of the warmth but paused when the blonde stirred slightly. He didn't wake. Daxter couldn't help a smile as he watched Jaks posture soften subconsciously at his presence. He waited for his friend to settle then made his way into the newly revealed gap by Jaks chest and curled into a ball, angling his head so he could hear the steady thump of the heart beside him.

They didn't need the city, never had- never will.


End file.
